40 
, E4 
•y 1 



DEATH OF HEWM CLAY. 



cs> 



DELIVERED, BY REQUEST, 



IN 



TRINITY CHURCH, EASTON, 



ON 



THE FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 



JULY 4th, 1S52. 



BY 



REV. JOSEPn I,„ EL^EQOPP, A. M. 






EASTON, PA. 
DAVIS, PRINTER, EASTON IAN OFFICE. 



L-o*"^ \/ "f* '^ 



'0/ 



E ASTON, July 10th, 1852. 
Dear Sir : — 

The undersigned, having been much impressed with the 
beauty and propriety of your discourse on the life and services of 
Henry Clay, respectfully solicit a copy for publication. 

Very truly yours, 

A. E. Brown, 
William Lee, 

T. II. SriGREAVES, 

Washington Mills, 
J. H. Cook. 

Rkv, Joseph I. Elsegood. 



RKcroRY, Easton, July 15, 1852. 
Gentlemen : — 

The discourse, which you have been pleased to notice thuS 
favorably, was prepared without the remotest expectation that it 
would be desired for publication, and is, as its author thinks, of the 
most unpretending character. Yet if, by his yielding to your solicita- 
tion, he may, to some extent, gratify those, to wlumi he feels him- 
self under many obligations, it is herewith cheerfully placed at 
your disposal. 

Very alTectionatcly yours, 

Joseph I. Elsegood, 

Rector of Trinity Church. 



Messrs. A. E. Brown, 
" William Lee, 

" T. R. SiTGREAVES, 

W. Mills, 
" J. H. Cook. 



DISCOURSE, 



" She goeth unto the grave to weep there." — John, xi. chap. 31 verse- 
latter clause. 

Truly touching was the scene to wliicli tliesc words add 
their simple tribute : — to find one more so — one which makes 
its wa}'' more directly to the best feelings of the heart — is 
hardly, we think, possible in all the compass of history, sacred 
or profane. The recent death of Lazarus, one whom Jesus 
tenderly loved — the deep affliction of his bereaved sisters — the 
sincere and undisguised sympathy of their countrymen — the 
tears of heart-felt grief shed by the blessed Kedeemer over the 
gloomy lot of poor fallen human nature — altogether compose 
a picture over which, with real sorrow, many a good man has 
bowed lowly his head, and freely wept. 

But this scene — how often, with more than ordinary clear- 
ness and force, is it brought home to our remembrance and 
thoughts ! There are times which no sojourner in this toilsome 
vale of light and shade, of pleasure and pain, can hope to es- 
cape ; times in which the sad bereavement of some well-loved 
object recalls forcibly to our minds the reality of those suffer- 
ings over which fell the tears of the Divine Redeemer ; times 
which peremptorily turn away our feet from the abode of 
mirth to the darkened habitation of grief; or which bids us 
forth from the society of the living and the gay, wdth a worn 
and wearied spirit, like that of the afflicted Marj-, to the silent 
grave of the departed, to weep there. 

And such a time, we feel, is the one, in the midst of which, 
as a people, we are found to-da}'. A man, a patriot, and a 
Christian, has just been taken from us by death ! — the " beauty 
of our Israel has been slain on her high places ;" the mightiest 
of the mighty of our land has fallen ; — our Henry Clay is no 



5 LIFE AKD SERVICES 

more ! — and we are solicited by a nation's grief, a grief common 
to us all, to gather, for a while, to his new-dug grave, and 

weep there. 

And is it not well ? The neglect of such a solicitation 
would have an unfriendly influence on virtue and public spirit. 
We know that the Avisest and most renowned nations of the 
past have not only applauded, and voted thanks and triumphs 
to their illustrious citizens, while living, but have celebrated 
them, in eulogies, when dead : have deeply mourned their de- 
parted worth, and have erected altars of virtue, and monuments 
of honor, in order to perpetuate their names and deeds to suc- 
ceeding ages and generations. Thus, in the best and palmiest 
days of their republics, did Greece and Kome : " and it was," says 
Thucydides, " the manner of the Egyptians, the fathers of arts 
and sciences, not only to duly recount and honor the names 
and actions of their departed worthies, but to embalm their 
bodies, that they might long be kept in public view, as ex- 
amples of virtue, and, though dead, yet speaking." 

Nor must these examples, at any time, be lost upon us ; 
but more especially at the present time. One, whose life has 
been to us so valuable, whom we have learned to esteem and 
venerate so highly, may not pass for ever away from us in un- 
broken silence, or with a mere passing tribute of praise. For 
more than half a century, he has lived amongst and for us, as 
a people. "With almost every enterprise and achievement, 
whereby, as a nation, we have become great, and prosperous, 
and happy, he has stood associated, either as its generous ori- 
ginator or efficient advocate. His life is, in an eminent sense, 
an historical one ! Scarcely a public good do we enjoy that 
bears not the impress of his great name and intellect : scarcely 
an evil has threatened, or come upon us, that has not found in 
him its most determined enemy, and its most unwearied oppo- 
ser. If, to-day, the cities, and towns, and villages, of our 
widely-extended country, wear a joyous, and busy, and a 
flourishing aspect, then, in him, in his true-hearted patriotism, 
is to be found the instrumental cause of so much good : if high 
regard, and honor, and reverence be entertained for, and bc- 
Btowcd upon us, from abroad, it is he chiefly that has won and 
secured them for us. We, indeed, go not too far, when we 
say that at the name of Henry Clay everything interesting to 



OF HENRY CLAY, 



virtue, to freedom, and also to humanity, rises at once, with a 
marked freshness, to our recollection. To illuminate the 
minds of his fellow-citizens, to imbue them with the necessary 
fact of their own significance, to nurse them into real greatness 
among the nations of the earth, to show them the vast extent 
of happiness which lay truly within their reach, to teach them 
to dare, to acquire, and then, to rightly hear and improve suc- 
cess — these were the noble ends for which he lived, and after 
which he faithfully, diligently, unremittingly labored. And 
it is his singular success, in this vast accumulation of difficult 
services, that has woven a diadem of beauty for his brow such 
as scarcely ever adorned the brow of another, either ancient or 
modern. 

How little did the Eichmond shopkeeper dream that the 
young orphan boy, one day committed to his care, was yet to 
prove so vast a benefit to his country ; was yet to stand and 
influence its councils, and give shape to its destiny ; was yet 
ably to represent it before foreign powers, and with such men 
as Albert Gallitan, Jonathan Eussel, James S. Bayard, and 
John Quincy Adams, amicably, nobly, and triumphantly ad- 
just the perplexed difficulties of nations.* 

He was, emphatically, our country's greatest, noblest, most 
admired son ! The period at which he entered upon public 
life, and became properly identified with our nation's history, 
its rise and successful progress, was, as most who hear me 
know, a remarkable one : one marked hy many and peculiar 
difficulties ; but for the high and important sphere of human 
agency, to which, in the providence of God, he was summoned, 
he was eminently gifted. As a man, his reasoning powers 
were, confessedly, of the highest order. He had, if we may 
so speak, the power to penetrate subjects as by a momentary 
intuition, and to fetch into view, soon after he had commenced 
his search, those deeply hidden treasures of the intellectual 
mind, to the discovery and display of which, most men, of even 
acknowledged talent, must have employed an elaborate pro- 
cess. A profound metaphysician, it was his lot to be rivalled 

* The commissioners appointed by President Madison to negociato a 
treaty with envoys appointed by England, now known as The Treaty of 
Ghent 



LIFE AND SERVICES 



by few, and to be surpassed by none. In all bis speecbes and 
compositions, (over wliicb we bave loved to pore,) wbetber in 
tbe council or tbe cabinet, we find tbe all-pervading presence 
of a sound judgment, a finislied taste, and a ricb imagination, 
accompanied witb an unaffected simplicity and earnestness, 
wbicb render tbem, at times, not merely grand, but inimitably 
so. He bad all tbe attributes of genius, tbat rare and masterly 
faculty wbicb it is far more easy for us to appreciate tban to 
define. Altbougb no academy, in bis youtb, bad welcomed 
bim to its sbades, and no college bad crowned bim witb its 
bonors, bis erudition, as a man, was tbat of tbe elegant scbolar. 
Witb a bold determination, wbicb was all bis own, be lifted 
himself up to tbe bigbest gifts beld out to bis ardent gaze, and 
be obtained and made tbem truly bis. As a speaker, be bad 
formed bis style on tbe purest models furnisbed by bis own or 
earlier times, and be took pains witb it, and wrougbt it into 
tbat force, and beauty, and plainness, wbicb placed bim first 
among tbe first of world-admired orators. Witb a voice truly 
surprising for its compass, and tbe entire control wbicb be bad 
over it, tbe cbaracter of bis ideas, tbeir lucid order, bis happy 
choice of expressions, tbe ricb melody of bis tones, the rapid- 
ity of his utterance, tbe fire of bis eye, tbe dignity of tbe cause 
which engaged him, tbe ardor of feeling with which be threw 
himself into it, drew from many a lip and heart, gathered 
about his noble and commanding person, the testimony which 
can neither be controverted nor suppressed. — This is eloquence 
— eloquence indeed. 

The present is neither the time nor the place to speak mi- 
nutely of his doings, or of tbe principles and reasons which 
swayed him in reference to tbem. This has been, and this 
must still be, the grateful task of others. All that we may do 
is to speak of tbem in general terms, and thus pay our tribute 
to his worth, at whose grave, we freely, with common consent, 
gather to weep. 

What he was in public life he was also in private. He 
was as truly great in his own lovely retreat at Ashland, by his 
own hearth-side, in the centre of tbe domestic circle, or pur- 
suing his ordinary avocations, as at the gay and busy Capitol, 
in the grave councils of bis nation, and absorbcdin the migh- 
tiest questions of empire. At home, every heart revered him. 



> 



OFIIENUYCLAY. 9 

every hand welcomed him, and every eye and countenance 
brightened at his approach ; — abroad, an equable temper, at- 
tained by long and careful self-discipline, an easy, natural, all- 
controlling fascination of manner, his noble bearing and yet 
nobler deeds, won for liim the esteem and veneration of all 
with whom he was found : — even the absent enemy, and even 
he had such, could not be the present one. lie loved and 
was beloved by all, and thus the character of the great man 
was complete. 

Would that we could yet have retained him amongst us ! 
At a period of our nation's history so vast and momentous in 
interest as the present, when so much that is perplexing and 
startling is being pressed forward into public view, and de- 
manding the consideration of our best minds, would that we 
could yet have retained amongst us one so great, so essential 
to our nation's good ! But to do this we have not been pri- 
vileged. The mandate, which was not to be reversed, had 
gone forth ; and at the Seat of Government, so fitting a place 
for the death of the natioii's own, full of years, full of honors, in 
full possession of all his faculties, with a firm Hiith in the Re- 
deemer of mankind, in communion with our own branch of 
Christ's most holy church, calmly and gently he submitted to 
the inexorable summons, and proceeded on that journey 
whence no traveller returns. From west to cast, from north 
to south, by land, and over the wide ocean to the utmost ex- 
tent of the civilized globe, the melancholy intelligence has 
gone forth, that our loved one, the venerable statesman, the 
mature patriot, the glory of America, is no more ! With the 
plaudits of the wise and good, their tears and heartfelt grief, he 
has received his dismission, and passed away to that better 
land which God has prepared, and beautified, and blest for the 
eternal abiding-place of all who love him here. Peaceful and 
calm, and holy be the spot where shall repose his honored re- 
mains ! marked be the place, and adorned with beauty, to 
which many a pilgrim's feet hereafter shall, with solemn re- 
verence, turn ! And here, — 

" Sweet ivy twined with myrtle, form a shade 
Around the tomb where the patriarch's laid ; 
Where, 'neath your boughs, shut from the beams of day, 
A nation's tears shall flow for Henry Clay .'" 



10 LIFE AND SERVICES 

Bat we pause ! We are not here, my brethren, merely to 
remember the worth of the departed; merely to fill our 
thoughts with what he Avas, but also to reflect upon what he 
now is : to learn the great truth over again, " That man, even 
in honor, abidcth not ;"— that " his days are but as a hands, 
breadth ;"— that "his life is but as a vapor, a mere passing 
breath ;" and from hence to learn, more surely, to put not our 
trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom is no help- 
but in God, in whom alone there is help, and with whom alone 
there is everlasting strength. 

Before our mind's eye is stretched the cold and inanimate 
form of the dead statesman ; and in the presence of a spectacle 
so solemn, so humiliating, how forcibly are we taught the van- 
ity of everything that is merely earthly in its nature ! Exalted 
as may be the world's honors, attractive as may be its gifts, 
and nobly and rightfully as they may be won, the period dur- 
ing which they can be enjoyed is brief indeed ; they either, 
like things unreal, glide stealthily away from their possessor, 
or he, as though they never were his, glides away from them. 
Well may we here clothe with inspired words our lips, and 
exclaim — " Man walketh but in a vain show." Yes, in a vain 
show, in a mere empty exhibition, each is but performing his 
lighter or more important part. Hardly have we made good 
our entry into the world ere we find it to be but one vast, 
complicated, and, in many respects, truly imposing drama. 
The men around us are the busy actors ; and to succeed, each 
in his undertook part, is the only boon they ask ; the only fe- 
licity they crave : to this they direct all their anxiety and hope, 
and for this they freely expend all their ingenuity, zeal, and 
strength. And yet, when all is over, what has it proved, but, 
as the illusive spectacle of a theatre, the illusion more pro- 
longed indeed, and at a heavier expense, yet throughout, quite 
as unsubstantial. And then, the reward,— what, after all, have 
the actors, even the most successful, acquired for all their ex- 
ertions? — a few light and momentary gratifications, without 
one lasting, substantial good for the dark and dreary time to 
come. Vain, showy, shadowy world ! May we again com- 
pare it? It is like those thin, dissolving views produced by 
art, in which the eye beholds objects, most attractive and beau- 
tiful, while there is nothing to be cither felt or handled. Do 



OF HENRY CLAY. 



11 



we not prove this over and over again ? Wc look forth, and 

many arc the things which the workl presents invitingly to 

our gaze ; fitly arc they arranged, and higlily are they colored ; 

and caught by their enticing aspect, we would be the first to 

press forward and possess them ; we succeed in our efforts, but 

in the instant that we attempt to grasp our prize, it fades 

away and we see it no more ; — there was in it nothing real. 

In like terms is the world described by St. Paul : " The fashion 

of it," he tells us, "passcth away." It is characterized by 

nothing permanent ; its grandeur, its glory, its joys, and even 

its form, are all temporary, changing, and must pass quickly 

away. Such is the scene of our present being; the scene 

where alone wc acquire and wear our short-lived honors; 

adorn and beautify it as we may, it is, after all, but an empty 

pageant — an illusive show ! 

But Avhence, it may be asked, comes this state of things? 
whence comes it that everything with which we have now to 
do is thus vain, thus unsubstantial, thus deceptive ? Is this 
indeed the question— your question ? The answer is at hand. 
It is because sin has gained an entrance into our world, over- 
spread it with disorder, and made its affairs what they would 
not have been had our Eden innocence remained to us. Sin 
it is that has worked the widespread ruin, and opened our 
hearts to what is deceptive and false. Image to yourselves, if 
possible, a world like our own, but undefaced by sin, and you 
have imaged to yourselves a world, not heavenly, indeed, be- 
cause material, but nevertheless a world Avhere this entire illu- 
sion is unknown. There all is real, all substantial ; there men 
live, and think, and act, as they really should; unswayed, at 
any time, by what is false, transient, or degrading ; ever faith- 
ful to the trust reposed in them, and wearing long and meekly 
the highest honors which such a world can confer upon them. 
But not of this description is our. world. Whatever about it 
was substantial and enduring sin has destroyed, and Death, in 
his fearful, untiring progress through it, is ever and anon leav- 
ing it like some once crowded, but now deserted, silent hall. 
How important, then, to us, is that wisdom which is from 
above : which implants within us the sublime convictions of 
faith ; which unfolds to us the high and animating blessings 
of hope ; and which urges our reluctant spirits away from 



12 LIFE AND SERVICES 

what is only false and temporary, and prepares them for that 
purer world where all is real — all is eternal ! 

Again, we are taught here how vain and transient are all 
our boasted endowments, whether they be physical or mental. 
When he lies down and dies, all that we have admired and 
esteemed in one of our lineage, depart with him. We see 
him no more, know him no more. Keverently may we have 
gazed upon him ! His, it may be, was a form of the noblest 
mould, dignified, expressive, and commanding ; a fitting tem- 
ple for one who was the world's duly appointed emperor. So 
far as the resemblance could be carried, his body bore the 
image of its high and august original. But it sinks in death, 
it yields to corruption ; on its finest features revels the loath- 
some worm ! And what a humiliating lesson to us is the 
melancholy spectacle ! — Then the noble qualities which were 
lodged within that form, the superior intellect, the splendid 
genius, the almost more than human energies and activities 
which no features, or varyings of a countenance merely earthly, 
could make distinctly manifest. Often have we bowed before 
the presence of so much worth ! But with a bold, relentless 
hand, Death strikes down his victim in our sight, and as we 
see borne away the revered object, ! how deeply are we led 
to lament that no protection for it from the Destroyer could 
anywhere be found. 

Nor is this all we are taught here. At the grave where 
the great and the good are laid, we see for ever arrested, all 
the benefits and blessings which here they might, instrumen- 
tally, have wrought in our behalf For our good, as a peo- 
ple, they have ever and studiously lived ; with our nation's 
rise and prosperous growth their entire being has been inti- 
mately interwoven and identified, and most faithfully have 
they served it. Like him, it may be, whom we this day 
mourn, such an one may have been the architect of his own 
greatness ; and what is more, may have seen that greatness 
fully and cheerfully accorded to him by those for whom he 
had given himself up to labor. If they needed example or 
counsel, guidance or assistance, every eye may he have seen 
turned and fixed upon himself, and his lightest thoughts and 
doings made matter for their unquestioning approval and 
imitation. There is, to me, something truly beautiful in such 




OFHENRYCLAY. 13 

love for a worthy public character as this ! It is beautiful to 
see a vast people looking up to him with unminglcd admira- 
tion ; clinging affectionately around him ; freely bestowing 
upon him their confidence ; honoring him with their plaudits 
and their gifts ; hailing him with their sincere gratulations, 
and following him with their choicest benedictions. Such an 
attachment is most exalted : we feel it to be so. And when 
an object of so much reverence and kind feeling is bidden to 
lie down and die, how keenly do we feel his loss, and mourn 
his departure ! It is as though we had lost an elder brother — 
one of our own household flock. Amid many and bitter 
tears, we stand by his new-made grave ; all that he was and 
did, rises freshly to our recollection ; we reflect how essential 
to our good was his existence, and with him, in his cold and 
silent grave, how many of our best hopes do there seem to be 
buried. Nowhere as here do we learn so truly, that man, 
even in his best estate, is altogether vanity, or value more 
rightly those qualities and affections which shall for ever en- 
dure, increase, and flourish in the immediate presence world 
of the living and eternal God. 

To deepen the gloomy, yet needful impressions here made 
upon us, our thoughts are directed, yet further, to a contem- 
plation of the many, varied, and important faculties of which 
the grave rudely deprives us. Vast and sublime is the extent 
over which mind may possess an uncontrolled sway, and ex- 
alted is the position which the possessor of its choicest and 
most cultivated gifts may ultimately occupy. An individual 
is before me — he feels within himself the stirrings of an expan- 
sive mind; its powers are struggling to be evolved, and to 
the required task he singly, steadily, devotes himself; enter- 
ing boldly upon some admired and honorable course, he pur- 
sues it through long and weary years with the most untir- 
ing perseverance and energy ; through his patient application 
and study, science is explored, or the possessions of mind are 
investigated ; human misery is alleviated, or public justice is 
rightly developed and maintained ; the fabric of society is im- 
proved, or the country is extended, defended, or properly 
strengthened ; the task is accomplished ; the desired eminence 
is reached. With a mind cultivated and matured, he looks 
forth abroad and around him calmly from the dizzy height, 



14 LIFE AND SERVICES 

and widely do his fcllow-meu acknowledge his worth, and lay 
at his feet their costliest tributes. In the many benelits which 
he has, instrumentally, conferred upon them, they rejoice, and 
gratefully and proudly do they gaze upon him, as though he 
never could die, or his services never could cease. But empty 
and vain arc all such thoughts and expectations ! Death 
laj-^s upon their favorite his cold, icy hand, and quickly all 
the superior attainments which won their admiration and 
reverence are no more ; — knowledge, and wisdom, and talent, 
and skill, are all gone; — the great one sleeps in death ; and 
that mind, which lately was almost unapproachable, is shrouded 
in darkness, and will never again shed its genial rays over 
the earth. IIow mysterious are the dispensations of Pro- 
vidence ! Why is the earth darkened in the midst of the 
clear day ? Why is the sun gone down at the noon ? Why, 
at the moment that it diffuses the widest promise, attracts to 
itself most effectually human expectation and attachment, 
and is apparently most needed, is so pure and bright a lu- 
minary removed for ever from its place ? M^^sterious, indeed, 
is the event which thus takes from us the great and the good, 
and bids us forth to their silent grave, to mourn over the me- 
lancholy fate of all that is human. 

But we check ourself ! We may not regard that as myste- 
rious which so }>hunly points us to another and a better state 
of things — which fills our thoughts with a world where the 
wise and the good shall all be ultimately gathered together 
— Avhere their faculties will find a larger expansion, and all the 
improved powers and energies of their deathless minds shall bo 
brought out into loftier action and more glorious achievements. 
To such a world it is oar highest privilege to look forward. 
And needful is it as beautiful! Earth cannot be the abiding 
home of immortal and redeemed spirits ; it is too contracted — 
too impoverished! Even at best, what know the wise and 
good here of themselves — of nature — of humanity — of God — of 
the world he inhabits ? When can they cease to know only in 
part, and know even as they are known ? only when they 
have ceased from earth, and are for ever with the Lord. Thi- 
ther, therefore, do they pass from us at death ; and though our 
eyes see them not, yet eyes immortal shall behold them; and 
though in earthly scenes and doings they have no longer any 



OF HENRY CLAY. 15 

share, yet into tlic glorious, unveiled presence of their Divine 
Original they will have ministered unto them an abundant en- 
trance ; and there, in services the most exalted, -with bodies 
holy and indestructible, and Avith faculties pure and properly 
expanded, they will take an honorable and conspicuous part. 
Let then Death proceed with his fearful work — let him, as he 
will take from us our noblest and our best — Ave may not mourn 
uncomforted, since we are assured that our loss is their infi- 
nite gain. 

It will be seen that in what we have said thus far, Ave have 
taken it for granted that greatness and goodness go +^ er. 
But are they ahvays found so combined ? Alas, hoAV i..any 
have lived, and died, Avho were great, but not good ! They 
were great, but it Avas only in the things that pertained to this 
earth, they had neither sought, nor desired to be great in the 
sight of heaA^en. They had taken part in the honors Avliich 
Cometh from man, but none in the honors Avhich cometh from 
God. They had shared in the deep, destructive malady Avith 
which all of our race is afflicted, but not in its cure — not in the 
the inestimable blessings wrought out for mankind by Jesus 
Christ — not in the atoning merits of his precious blood — not in 
the purifying influences of his Holy Spirit ! And dying as they 
lived, without one rightful claim to the future inheritance of 
the just; Avhat other condition has aAvaited them beyond the 
grave, but that Avhich is made up of ignominy and shame, of 
woe and pain. Painful indeed is it Avhen such cease from 
amongst the living — Avhen they depart Avhither their greatness 
acquired here can avail them nothing — and Ave are constrained 
mournfully to exclaim — they are not ! 

But the Christian — the great man and the good man — let 
us look again upon him ! lie dies, but it is in the fulness of 
hope. He ceases from earth, but it is only that he may enter 
heaven,~Avhere all is real — all is glorious — all is eternal ; — 
where God Avill establish and glorify him for ever; — where 
Christ Avill make him to inherit all things — Avill exalt him to a 
throne, even that throne Avherein he himself, Avith the Father, 
is noAV seated, and from Avhich he omnipotently swajs his 
Bceptre OA'er all thing3 both in heaven and on earth ! 

God grant that Ave may lay these reflections carefully to 
heart ! It is not enough that men be merely g' "at — great for 



16 LIFE AND SERVICES OF HENRY CLAY. 

earth, they must be good also,— good in the sight of heaven ; 
and if they be not this all else is as nothing — they have lived 
in vain on the earth. I cannot refrain here from directing your 
attention once more to the venerable statesman whose death 
has called forth these remarks. Speaking of the closing hours 
of his lite, a Washington letter writer says : — 

" Mr. Clay is sinking so gradually that the changes from 
day to day are scarcely perceptible. In the apartment of the 
dying statesman all is quiet, peaceful, subdued. There lies the 
emaciated form of him who very lately was the cynosure of all 
our eyes. For him the world, diplomacy, politics, honors, 
pleasures, earthly aspirations, are all things of the past. The 
present and the eternal only are now of importance to him. One 
drop of atoning blood is to him far more valuable than presi 
dential or senatorial honors. One whisper from the Saviour, 
' Th3'- sins be forgiven thee,' is sweeter, more transporting far 
than the plaudits of the murmuring multitude ! What a con- 
trast between the living politician, tossed upon the troubled sea 
of popular excitement, driven before the gales of passion or of 
prejudice, and struggling amid the conflicting waves of interest 
and polic}^, choked with their foam, and soiled by their illth, 
and the djang statesman, with all this turmoil and noise hush- 
ed behind him, the calmly awful solemnities of the death-bed 
around him, and eternity just before him." 

O that we were wise, that we understood this, that we 
would consider our latter end ! My brethren, from these con- 
templations of death, and with these thoughts filling our minds, 
let us pass to the scenes of our daily life. May they lead us so 
to look at what is temporal and fleeting as to surely turn us to 
what is eternal and abiding. May they lead us to devote our- 
selves to Christ — to live a life of faith in him — to live the life 
of the righteous, that we may die his death. Then will the 
venerated sage of Ashland have accomplished much in his 
death, as well as much in his life ; and these remarks, now 
dropped in your cars, with the two-fold design of honoring the 
dead, and doing good to the living, have received their best 
and highest reward. 



TUE END. 











^U 836 691 8 



